Poem: Listening to Elvis

A poem that is less about listening to Elvis, more about listening to some other things…and even more about something else entirely.

I used to drive over from my place to his.
And we’d sit in his room – there wasn’t
anything on the walls – and we’d listen
to Pink Floyd or Bowie. Sometimes, we

might play Dire Straits. But those were
the options. So, I remember one time
it was particularly memorable to
be listening to Fleetwood Mac.

We’d sit in silence and listen through to
albums – but at my house it was different;
very much hanging with the whole family.
He was out of his shell, concocting stories

and so committed to living this lie. When I
asked him, one time, what the difference was.
He said, “I never feel like I want to murder
your parents”. Then suggested we listen to Elvis.